


Say what you mean, tell me I'm right

by aliceecrivain



Series: Your Original Sin [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Developing Relationship, Light Angst, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Mutual Pining, Orgasm Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-25 21:42:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21363112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliceecrivain/pseuds/aliceecrivain
Summary: Aziraphale has a secret he's kept from everyone for his entire existence. Unfortunately, working together at the Dowling house has left him and Crowley in far too close of quarters for him to successfully hide it any longer. The truth comes out and neither of them handle it particularly well.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Your Original Sin [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1540123
Comments: 8
Kudos: 195





	Say what you mean, tell me I'm right

**Author's Note:**

> "hey, haven't I seen this thing before? do I have to turn you in for reposter's fraud??" ->; click [here!](https://aliceecrivain.tumblr.com/gomens-fic-update)
> 
> this is part of a series of stand-alone but thematically-related fic that I'm working on, each themed around one of the seven deadly sins (very original I know). this one's not your cup of tea? click on to the next; maybe you'll like it better :) note: I use he/him pronouns for both of them throughout this fic regardless of genitalia 
> 
> fun game: guess the sin for each (it's sometimes Obvious)

It was a well-known fact among celestial circles that angels did not get sick.

Luckily for Aziraphale, his current employers weren’t aware of it, nor would they think to apply it to him. To them, he was simply a gardener. Somewhat strange at times, perhaps, but nothing too far out of the ordinary.

He hated to lie to them but there wasn’t much else he could do. He was in no state to work and wouldn’t be for—well, he didn’t know how long exactly. What was actually affecting him varied in duration. However, it wasn’t them he was worried about.

Unfortunately for Aziraphale, the only other being who knew he was an angel and knew that angels did not get sick and therefore his excuse for missing work was a lie and that something else must be the issue was currently in much closer proximity than he’d ever been before when this had happened. Aziraphale rather enjoyed the company and the fact that they were getting to spend more than a few days at a time (at most) together, but now, well, he wouldn’t have minded the distance.

It wouldn’t be such a problem if the situation weren’t so humiliating and personal. The last thing he wanted was for someone else to see him like this, especially Crowley. (In part because he didn’t trust himself around him in this state, but that was besides the point.)

Another, not-so-well-known fact about angels was that they’d been made with a sort of fail-safe. The purpose—Aziraphale believed, since no one had ever seen it fit to explain it to him and it was his best theory thus far—was to punish angels who stayed away from Heaven for too long and compel them to return. He supposed, in theory, that made sense but it was rather different in practice. However, since he was the only angel who spent any considerable amount of time on Earth, he was left to suffer the consequences of that particular design choice alone.

Aziraphale wiped the sweat from his brow fruitlessly. It was a hot day, of course. It was always hot when it happened. He’d closed up all the windows in his shop as best he could, darkening it considerably, and doing away with the windows in the small loft above it entirely, but it was no use. The sticky July day seeped its way in through the walls and filled the space all around him, expanding endlessly and pressing up against him from all sides. The heat wave was relentless, not abating even in the night and all Aziraphale could do was lay there and sweat his way through it.

It was becoming a bit unbearable.

The physical reality of the state he was in went much further than sweat, he was afraid. The more cerebral urge to return to Her again was there, but it was nothing compared to how the whole thing manifested…biologically. Aziraphale had no idea if it was different for each angel, or if it meant something about him specifically—well. He tried not to think about that.

The mechanism was clear enough: stay was from Heaven too long and be punished with the incessant desire for things that were not remotely holy. There was no way to prevent it—he had tried, over and over and over and over and over again to no avail—and no way to end it early. You either suffered through it or, he supposed, gave in to the temptation.

Or returned back Upstairs. He’d tried that, admittedly, finding excuses now and again to go back, give reports or some such, but he found that unless he stayed for quite a long time away from Earth it didn’t matter. The longer he spent away, the more time it appeared he’d have to remain Up There to pay his penance. He suspected at this point it would be years and with the Apocalypse looming before them it simply didn’t warrant thinking about, not that he wanted to be up there among the others, preparing for war anyway.

He’d never told anyone about the…heats, as they were. They only came on once every 50 years or so, and the thought that admitting it might make it so he was ripped from his post and from humanity itself had frightened him so in his early centuries that he became determined never to tell. Moreover, the thought of admitting even the barest details of the experience to Gabriel or Michael or any of their lot filled him with a sickening balloon of shame.

No, he couldn’t tell anyone. He would not risk the world or his own dignity by giving in to this.

That was all well and good, but they’d continued to grow worse throughout the course of history, cycle by cycle. It was a slow and steady increase in intensity, but certainly by now it was noticeable and this time it was bordering on excruciating.

Aziraphale shifted uncomfortably on the bed he’d made for the occasion, restless beyond belief and splayed out like a starfish in hopes of not accidentally rubbing up against himself. He tried desperately not to think of the area between his legs which was in the process of mimicking the weather with incredible precision. He clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. He’d been in the practice of praying now and again in the midst of this, begging the one person he knew wasn’t listening to end this torture. Nothing came from it, but it was something to do.

He rolled over onto his stomach, peeling himself from the sheets in the process, and then immediately rolled back when the sudden pressure on his nipples sent a shock through him. He sighed and his stomach growled furiously. That had gotten worse too, but he didn’t loathe it quite as much as the rest.

The only fly in the ointment was that he hadn’t exactly seen this one coming. He’d been so busy running about, raising Warlock and attempting to be a convincing human gardener and worrying about Armageddon, that it’d slipped his mind until it was too late. As such, he was entirely underprepared and he knew deep down that it would be impossible to get through this with what he had supplies-wise. Sating one urge tended to make the other just a bit less awful and he would much rather eat a bit much than the alternative.

He lasted until late afternoon on the second day. The temperature of the day was at its peak, the sun beating down from on high and roasting him from the inside out. He’d taken to turning over and over like one of those rotating meats on metal racks he’d seen recently in some convenience stores. He felt light-headed and mindless and on one of the turns he managed to reach over and grab the phone off its receiver. He struggled his way through dialing and listened to the phone ring, feeling pathetic and for all the world like he’d lost.

The knock on the door came sometime mid-evening. The air around Aziraphale wasn’t quite as scorching but his insides still burned. He was in no state to be greeting anyone, so it was fortunate that his visitor wasn’t one for courtesy. He heard footsteps approaching through the shop below and then up the stairs into the space. There was more of a click-clack sound than usual, but Aziraphale didn’t pay it much mind.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley called, still a meter or so away and out of sight.

Aziraphale had put up a wall that wasn’t usually there between the rest of the loft and this small, dark alcove he’d made for himself which he supposed was the issue. He gathered what was left of his energy and called, “In here.”

A few more moments and then Crowley finally came into his line of sight. Aziraphale forced himself to sit up, biting back any sounds of pain he might have made at the action. His stomach twisted as he realized he could smell Crowley, the sweetness of his perfume and under that the familiar scent of his skin, but he forced himself to look up and try for a smile nonetheless.

Crowley was frozen in the doorway. He was still in his nanny get-up, but he’d lost the hat, jacket, bow, and up-do. Instead his long red hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail and the top three buttons of his dress were undone, probably to help with the overly-balmy weather. It made it so Aziraphale could see just a hint of cleavage peeking out from the fabric and he swallowed hard, trying to look anywhere else.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley pulled his glasses off and tucked them into his pocket, the gold of his eyes all the more obvious for the darkness of the room. “What the heaven is going on?”

Aziraphale’s treacherous eyes had landed on the shape of Crowley’s legs in his stockings and he forced them back up, but not before he noted the swell of his breasts straining the buttons of his dress somewhat. “I’m terribly sorry for my absence. I’ve—I’ve fallen ill, you see.” He noticed the bag in Crowley’s hand and some rational part of his brain grew determined to get this over with as quickly as possible before he did something foolish. “If I could have gone and gotten the groceries myself I absolutely would have but I couldn’t.”

Crowley blinked at him, his nostrils flaring and, when that didn’t suffice, his tongue flicking out between his lips briefly. Aziraphale pressed his thighs together as tightly as he could so they wouldn’t part without his permission. Crowley frowned, suspicious. “Angels don’t get sick. Besides, what do _you_ need groceries for?”

Aziraphale swallowed hard. He knew this was a terrible idea. “I can’t—I can’t tell you. I’m sorry, Crowley, but I need you to leave. Please, I’ll explain soon, just not now.” The longer Crowley stayed standing there, looking him over, the more Aziraphale felt like he was digging himself into a deeper hole than he could possibly escape from. He was beginning to shake already from the effort of holding himself upright. He dug his nails hard into his arms to try to distract himself. (It didn’t work.)

Crowley, never one for listening to directions, only stepped closer. “No, you’ll tell me now. I’m not just gonna leave when something’s clearly wrong with you. I couldn’t—” He broke off, glancing to the side. “That is, it’ll mess up everything if something happens to you. We’re in this together, aren’t we?”

The currently occupied space between Aziraphale’s legs ached further at the proximity. “Yes, but you don’t need to worry. Everything will be right again within the fortnight and things can get back to normal. You could even take a week off if you’d like, to balance things out.” He could feel his words growing shakier and more frantic. He was also aware that he was perspiring again although the temperature of the room hadn’t shifted.

“You really expect me to believe that?” Crowley asked, obnoxiously stubborn. “You look like hell, angel. You’re asking me to go get me groceries, missing work and lying about it—something’s very wrong and you need to tell me what it is.”

Aziraphale hit his breaking point, despite how short a time they’d been talking for. Everything felt like it was moving too fast when he was like this. He knew having Crowley anywhere nearby would be beyond dangerous, and yet there he was, closer to giving in than ever. He couldn’t believe himself. Spiraling further out of control, he lashed out. “And you care, do you? Even though I’ve told you this will have no effect whatsoever on the plan? Perhaps it’s yourself you should be worried about. That’s not meant to be something demons are capable of.”

It struck a chord, as it was meant to, and Crowley’s expression grew tight. Aziraphale prayed desperately that it would be enough to make him leave. He could make amends later.

Again, his prayers went unanswered. “Cruelty doesn’t suit you,” Crowley retorted, cool as ice, his gaze burning straight through him.

Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut and collapsed back onto the bed, unable to hold himself up any longer. He choked back a sob and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, curling up as small as he could on the mattress. He couldn’t believe how weak he was.

“I’m sorry, Crowley. I can’t tell you—I can’t! It would kill me to do it. It’s so humiliating and repulsive. Please, I’m begging you, leave me be. I’d rather be discorporated on the spot than have you see me like this a second longer,” he cried, voice ragged. He knew that wasn’t the only reason he needed Crowley gone, but he wasn’t about to put words to the other, not now.

“Like what?” Crowley pushed. “We’ve known each other for near 6000 years. We’ve both been pretty pathetic now and again.” The bed decompressed next to him and Aziraphale scrambled to put distance between them. “What I mean is it’d be quite the pot calling the kettle black sort of situation.”

Aziraphale wiped the wet streaks on his face onto the comforter, wishing he could pull himself together already. “It’s different. I swear it is.”

“You’re right. I’ve never seen you like this before which is exactly why I’m not leaving. Come on, angel, give it up already.”

“Crowley…”

“Still sitting here! Not moving a single centimeter towards the door!”

“Please—”

“Aziraphale.”

There was suddenly a hand on his shoulder and something within him snapped in half like a piece of wood, jagged and uneven on either end. He jerked away from the contact and raised his head. “I am in heat! I can’t even stand up, let alone go to the market for groceries! I’m filthy and hot and a complete mess, and you being here is only making it worse! Shall I go on?”

Crowley’s look of shock was a bit of a salve, he had to admit. The demon shook his head just the slightest bit.

Aziraphale nodded and curled back into himself. “Right. I’ll see you on your way then.”

-//-

It occurred to Crowley that perhaps he should have just left when he was told. Truly he was worried about the angel—not that he was anything but absolutely desperate not to let him know that—which had made him hold his ground. Aziraphale was never good at asking for help when he needed it, or at least not directly. But now he was beginning to reconsider.

His mind raced at a million miles per hour, the words “in heat” echoing nonstop in his head. He stared at the white and tan-colored lump in the middle of the bed that was Aziraphale. In heat. _In heat?_ In heat?!

“In…heat,” he repeated dumbly, moving back toward the edge of the bed slightly.

“Yes, that’s what I said,” the lump grumbled. “Anything to say about it?”

Crowley wasn’t used to the angel being quite so prickly towards him, but it certainly seemed like he was in pain so he didn’t feel particularly offended. He cleared his throat. He knew he shouldn’t ask. He should just go, but he’d never been good at knowing when to duck out of things before they went sideways. “Just…how? And why?”

Aziraphale huffed, but Crowley seemed to have worn him down. He gave him a quick, halting sort of explanation of the situation and Crowley was glad he knew what a heat was because the angel at no point said a word about the details. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but the proof was right in front of him. Heaven sure was a hell of a place. He smoothed over the edge of his skirt. Truth be told, the nature of the situation had crossed his mind once he got a good whiff of the place but he’d thought it had to be his imagination.

Apparently not.

“And you can’t…miracle it away?” he asked. “Get rid of the parts, so to speak, that make it all happen?”

Aziraphale sighed, having transitioned from angry to dejected, and squirmed on the sheets, restless as anything. “I’ve tried. It doesn’t work. All there is is to last it. The…parts show up against my will. I either choose myself or end up with who knows what.”

Crowley did not think about the possibilities of that. He really didn’t. “And you said it’s gotten worse. I get not wanting to tell the wankers Upstairs, but—” He swallowed, trying his best to adopt a nonchalant and completely non-suggestive tone. “Why not just get someone to help you through it? For all you know, one time would be the charm and it could be over within the blink of an eye.”

Aziraphale whined, his voice muffled by the sheets below him. The night carried on outside, but it was quite stuffy in the angel’s loft. “That’s exactly why I can’t! It’d be a sin, Crowley. I’d be giving in to temptation.”

Crowley rolled his eyes even though Aziraphale couldn’t see it. Aziraphale really had sat through six millennia of this, all on his own like some kind of martyr, suffering through it for the sake of what? Crowley didn’t want to rub it in at the moment but it wasn’t like he hadn’t sinned before, or given in to temptation. He was good at what he did, but it wasn’t _always _Crowley’s fault either. It was something else then.

“You can’t just…lie back and think of England? How can it be a sin if it’s a biological imperative? That’d be like punishing someone for having to take a piss.”

“Crowley, you’re not helping,” Aziraphale griped, rolling to face him again. His face was flushed and his hair was sticking to his forehead. He’d shed some layers of clothes but still had enough on to walk down the street without garnering any looks which Crowley didn’t understand. His pupils were wide and his eyes bleary too. Crowley had never seen such need on him before. He wished he didn’t wear it so well.

Crowley huffed, crossing his legs. He thought he should probably just do away with his own effort already but he had a feeling that wouldn’t make him any more objective. He might as well use what he was given. He was behind on bad deeds anyway. Wouldn’t hurt to go home after all this was resolved and rub one or two out while he was at it.

“Why not just do it yourself then?” Crowley asked. “If you’re desperate not to involve anyone else.”

Aziraphale looked scandalized. “You mean…?” He glanced around and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Masturbate?”

Crowley desperately fought back a laugh and failed.

“Oh, do be quiet! That’d be even worse and you know it. Look, I can get through this. I’ve done this hundreds of times before. I don’t need any help and I don’t need to do something so degrading to do it,” Aziraphale said, the finality in his voice suggesting again that he was done with this conversation.

Damn his pride. Crowley thought about telling Aziraphale that the world had already had one Lord and Savior to do the hard work of keeping his hand away from his prick his whole life, they didn’t need another one, but had a better idea. “Degrading, is it?” Crowley asked, sliding a hand down his own thigh and in between his legs, pushing his skirt up a bit to do so. He ran two fingers over the seam of his stockings, right along his slit. It wasn’t much but it made him shudder and he played it up. “I don’t know. Doesn’t seem that bad to me.”

Aziraphale was watching him like a bird a prey so he brought up his free hand to cup and squeeze lightly at his right breast. The room was still sweltering but he could feel his nipples hardening anyway. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but that was often the case. Aziraphale made a needy sort of noise in the back of his throat in response.

It quickly turned pained though and Crowley stopped messing around already. He just hated to see his friend in pain for such a silly reason. This seemed like the sort of thing Heaven would do, punishing angels just for being away too long with something they would find shameful. Aziraphale looked and sounded so desperate. It would be very, very easy to fuck this up, Crowley thought to himself. He needed to come up with something quickly.

“I suppose I…could help you out,” Crowley said slowly, aware of what it sounded like and hurrying to continue. “As part of the Arrangement that is.”

Aziraphale sent him a strained look. “Crowley…I don’t think—”

“Not like that,” Crowley grumbled. If he thought there was a chance in Heaven or Hell Aziraphale would agree it would absolutely be like that, but he wasn’t going to take advantage of him. Besides, the last thing they needed was either of their respective head offices noticing them going at it now of all times (although it would be an entertaining thing to see). “I mean. You do something you consider bad and I’ll do something good in return. That way it balances out and we can get back to saving the world instead of wasting two weeks self-flagellating.”

Some degree of lucidity crept its way across Aziraphale’s face and he struggled to sit up again. Clearly he was thinking about it, which was a good sign. He still seemed conflicted, but Crowley thought that this was about the best he could do. It was always the best he could do: offer help without having to be asked and hope it was needed.

“I suppose…that could work,” Aziraphale murmured. “But what would you do? To balance it out, that is.”

Crowley forced himself to go through with this. If there was even a chance Aziraphale would grant himself some mercy, he would do it. They couldn’t both be the unmovable object in the situation. “Truth be told, your state is having quite the effect on me, being a demon and all. After I leave here, normally I might have done something…lustful. But, instead, I’ll abstain. I’ll resist the temptation, as you would put it.”

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows and Crowley hoped to whoever that he hadn’t been too obvious, that he’d come off as flippant. “That might just work,” he eventually said and Crowley couldn’t help but feel relieved.

“Just business as usual,” Crowley said. “We can shake on it, you can get past this, and we’ll get back to it then, yeah?”

Aziraphale nodded, slowly at first and then speeding up. “Yes. Yes, alright.” He offered Crowley a sheepish smile. “That was a good idea.”

Crowley shoved down any feelings he might have had at the praise. Sitting so long in this space with Aziraphale as he was was getting bad enough. He’d need to miracle up quite the distraction to keep his half of the promise, truth be told. He held out his hand in response and they shook. The contact burned.

Afterwards, Crowley hopped to his feet. “Well! I’ll get going then. Leave you to it.” He moved the bag of groceries a bit closer to the bed. “See you Monday if everything works out.”

“Crowley, wait,” Aziraphale called as he began to make his way toward the door.

Crowley bit the inside of his cheek. Sure, now he wanted him to stay. Slowly he turned back around. “Yes?”

Aziraphale wouldn’t meet his eyes. “It’s just—would you mind terribly if I asked you to stay? I don’t…really know how to do this.”

Crowley thought it was his turn to wish he would be discorporated rather than have to go through with it. Aziraphale was going to kill him. Still, some foolish part of him couldn’t help but think that the request was covering something else. It wasn’t like jerking off was _that_ difficult and he had a feeling if Aziraphale let his body do what it wanted he’d be just fine. So maybe the emphasis was less on the needing help and more on the him staying.

He knew it was a bad idea. He’d been lapping up these tiny droplets of hope Aziraphale gave him for centuries and was never any better off for them, the sips not nearly enough to quench the drought within him. Nonetheless he couldn’t think of any possible answer he could give other than, “Alright.”

He drug a chair into the far corner of the room as far away from the bed as he could and sat down in it, bracing himself to be very, _very _good. Aziraphale watched him closely but didn’t do much else.

“Take your clothes off,” Crowley suggested. “I don’t know how you’ve still got them on in the first place.”

Aziraphale obeyed, stripping down as quickly as he could, clearly desperate to free himself from the confines of the pile of fabric he always seemed to wear. Crowley watched as stretch after stretch of soft, pale skin was revealed to him and clung hard to the edge of his chair. The angel really was in a state. He tossed his clothes aside, onto the floor without a second glance and the thought made Crowley ache.

He was naked then, something Crowley hadn’t seen in a long time and never like this. He was a bit surprised to see that they had matching genitalia. “You chose that, did you?”

Aziraphale looked down at vulva between his legs and flushed, the tips of his ears turning red. “It’s easier not to accidentally rub against.”

_And harder to get off with_, Crowley thought but selfishly kept that bit to himself. “Lay down,” he suggested. He couldn’t stand seeing the need in Aziraphale’s eyes any longer, being so close and knowing it wasn’t for him.

Again, he listened, lying back and instinctively spreading his legs. Crowley—fortunately or unfortunately, he couldn’t quite decide—was given a perfect viewpoint for watching the pink lips of his cunt bloom in front him, parting along with his legs. Crowley clenched hard against nothing. What he’d give to press his face between those thighs, to make Aziraphale forget the definition of right or wrong, to make him come over and over again all the way until daybreak and into the morning. Aziraphale was gorgeous and unbelievably wet already.

Crowley had to shake himself out of it when Aziraphale again asked what next. He wasn’t sure exactly what else he’d expected to happen, so now all there was to do was deal with it.

“Crowley…?” Aziraphale called again, shifting uncomfortably on the mattress, his cunt twitching as he did.

“Touch your chest,” Crowley suggested, feeling his pronunciation get a bit more serpentine and helpless to do anything about it. Best to just throw himself into this and ignore how he could feel himself soaking through his panties as best he could. “Rub over the nipples, get them hard.”

Aziraphale did. He didn’t have breasts, but there was certainly enough skin there to have something to hold onto. He inhaled sharply as he tried it. Crowley couldn’t help but watch him, rapt. It was strange to feel so in control and powerless at the same time. Aziraphale groaned as he thumbed over his nipples.

“Good?” Crowley couldn’t help but ask, wishing his own voice sounded more collected.

The angel made an affirmatory sort of noise, still squeezing and rubbing in a curious sort of way. Crowley still had a feeling that he knew what he was doing, but he was growing more certain that he’d never tried it before.

Crowley’s mouth was dry. He needed to speed this up. As much as he would have liked to tell Aziraphale to slowly touch various places on his body, trying out the different sensations, see what he liked best, what would be his favorite place to put his free hand and squeeze to imagine someone else was touching him while he got himself off, at this pace he was going to actually explode. “Get a hand between your legs,” he suggested. “Get a feel for it. Your body’ll know what it likes.”

Aziraphale trailed a slow hand over his stomach, down past the patch of blond curls, down between his thighs. Crowley could see it shaking even in the dark space. Aziraphale honestly groaned when he finally touched himself. He ran two fingers up and down the slit of his cunt and Crowley could have sworn he was mimicking what he’d been doing earlier.

Crowley shifted, rubbing against the seat of the chair, unable to help himself. He needed friction badly, something, anything to relieve the pressure building up inside of him. He knew he could just wave the issue away, but he didn’t. This was very sweet torture indeed.

“Rub your clit, angel,” Crowley said when Aziraphale went on just dragging his fingers up and down through his own slickness. “The bit at the top. You’ll feel it.” Aziraphale whined and rubbed harder at the spot. “Yesss, just there. Little circles, keep it consistent.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale gasped, rocking his hips now against his hand. Crowley swore he almost lost it, hearing him call his name like that. “I—I see why people do this now.”

Crowley coughed out a laugh, still rubbing slowly against the chair. It wasn’t doing much for him, but it would keep him from either dying of arousal or saying fuck it all and shoving a hand down the front of his skirt. “They’re called pleasures of the flesh for a reason.”

Aziraphale scoffed at him, but the sound was soon lost in the other small noises he was making. Nothing too loud. Crowley wondered if he was biting them back somewhat. He would have said something if he wasn’t so caught up in the way Aziraphale was trying to spread his legs further, lifting his hips up and grinding against his fingers, slowly losing himself to the action.

“It’s not enough,” he whined. “Please…”

“You have two hands,” Crowley griped in hopes of distracting himself. He dug his nails hard into his side to feel anything other than overwhelming desire and denial at once. “Use them.”

Aziraphale wriggled so he could better see Crowley who froze immediately, halting his movements for fear of being caught. The angel looked at him, eyes so wide and dark, clearly indicating that he would require further instruction to understand his newest task. Crowley looked away, off toward the door, unable to hold eye contact for long. That he couldn’t stand. He just couldn’t.

“Take a finger or two, and put it inside yourself,” Crowley forced out, feeling a little like his mouth was full of cotton. His whole body felt strung tight enough to snap. “First hole, not the second unless you’re feeling particularly adventurous. Move it when you’re there, add another if you like.”

Aziraphale took his own fingers so easily. Crowley watched them disappear inside his body, one, two, three in turn and when he moved his hand it was fast and hard. Aziraphale was louder now, straining toward his release. “Yes, just like that,” Crowley praised, unable to help himself. His angel was so beautiful like this, taking what he needed, giving it to himself. “Keep at your clit too.”

“Oh, _oh_,” Aziraphale cried, slipping his pinky in too. Crowley wondered for a dizzying second if he might hook his thumb in as well. He clearly liked the stretch of it; the wet noises created by him fucking himself were proof enough of that.

All at once Aziraphale reached his peak and sobbed his way through it, tensing and shaking hard, his hips twitching as he was hit with wave after wave of his orgasm. Crowley could see his right hand moving still, rubbing it against the top of his pussy, getting as much out of this as possible. Finally, he settled, letting his fingers slip free and collapsing down against the bed, breathing hard.

Crowley’s whole being throbbed at having been neglected the same privilege. He rubbed once more, hard against the chair and then tried to settle as well. It was a bit easier now, but only a bit. “Alright then?” he eventually gathered himself enough to ask.

“Yes, thank you,” came Aziraphale’s weak reply. He began to move, slowly closing his legs and moving to regain some semblance of modesty. “The heat…it’s not quite as bad now.” He managed to sit up and did look a bit better (although most people in his position would).

He caught Crowley’s eyes and Crowley again had to look away, afraid Aziraphale might see something there that was just a bit too honest. He was sure he looked a mess and he was still uncomfortably wet between his legs. “Good then. I ought to be going, in that case.”

“It’s not as bad,” Aziraphale continued, “but I don’t think that was nearly enough.”

Crowley whipped his eyes back up, irritation sprouting suddenly within him. “Well, now you know what to do about it, don’t you? You’ve got a cunt; give it a minute and you can have another.” Crowley knew he had his issues but he didn’t think he deserved to sit here all night and deal with this.

Aziraphale dropped his eyes down to where he was fiddling with his hands, four of his fingers surely still sticky from his recent exertions. “That’s not what I meant.”

Crowley’s mind jumped immediately to several conclusions about that statement and he was quick to get rid of all of them. He sat up straighter in his chair and thought he should really just leave. This had turned from a bad idea, to an awful idea, to a possibly-traumatic idea. Someone might get seriously hurt from all of this and he knew who it would be.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to tell me what you mean,” Crowley said, carefully. “I can’t read your mind.” A deal then. If Aziraphale would put aside his ego and ask for what he wanted, then he would oblige. If not, he’d go

Quiet stretched between them for at least a full minute and Crowley thought he wouldn’t be able to do it. He wished that he felt relieved instead of disappointed, but lying to himself seemed a bit moot at that point.

“I’d like to have you,” Aziraphale said, speaking like he prying each word from his tongue. “If you’d let me.”

It felt like all the air was sucked out of the room following that announcement and then it was Crowley’s turn to be momentarily silent.

“I’m not exactly sure how to swing that,” Crowley said, because he was too shocked to think of something better. “Seems to violate our deal a bit.”

Aziraphale pressed his lips together. “I know,” he said and offered no further explanation.

Crowley needed to tell him. He needed to say that this was going to mean more to him than just lending a friend a hand (an extremely generous hand, he might add). Whether either of them wanted it or not didn’t really factor in. By all accounts this was a very bad idea and they’d be crossing a line they couldn’t go back from.

“What if you’re right?” he asked, unable to not consider it. “What if this is some big test? I don’t want to be the reason you Fa—the reason something happens to you.” Fear gathered in the pit of his stomach at the very thought.

Aziraphale was looking at him again, desperation clear on his face. “Nothing will happen.”

“You can’t know that,” Crowley muttered, making yet another stupid decision. If this was only going to end with one of them getting hurt, well, he knew who he wanted it to be. “Look. Fine. You can do it. I just…will make it so I don’t come.”

Aziraphale’s face fell. “That’s worse!”

“No,” Crowley said, standing and kicking off his shoes. “It’s the same thing. You do what you need to and I’ll…lie back and think of England. It’s just one orgasm. I’ve had plenty. Come on, angel. Take what you need. I’m offering it to you.”

Something in Aziraphale’s expression changed, growing oblique. His eyes too, like frosted glass—Crowley couldn’t see through them. “Alright,” he agreed. “But I’ll owe you. Quite a bit I should think.”

Crowley nodded, forcing on something like a smile. “A full month of work I should think.” He wished he felt worse about offering himself up as a thing to be fucked, but he’d had worse in the past. Deep down, he hated to think of it, but he knew he’d let Aziraphale use him and want nothing in return just to be touched by him once. Then later, when he was alone, he could pretend it was something different than it had been.

“Make it two,” Aziraphale amended, and that made him feel a bit better.

Crowley cleared his throat. “How would you like me?”

“Naked, I should think?” Aziraphale suggested, and it was just cheeky enough to make him laugh.

“Very well,” he said, beginning to disrobe. “You’ll need to change that.” He gestured vaguely to the space between Aziraphale’s legs. “You could peg me but I think it would defeat the purpose.”

Aziraphale looked a little scandalized at the response but continued to do as he was told. Crowley watched his newly-attained cock begin to harden immediately between his legs and wondered again if he could get away with asking to suck it. He went about fussing with his stockings to distract himself.

As he thought about it further, he thought he might want to shift his anatomy as well. He didn’t dislike vaginal penetration, but he thought with Aziraphale it would make him think of the Garden and that wasn’t exactly what he wanted on his mind at the moment. He’d rather this be just a touch more impersonal. “Would it put you off if I follow your lead?”

Aziraphale glanced down at himself and back at Crowley. “I’d rather you be comfortable than anything else.”

Crowley tried not to read into that and flicked a hand to change his sex. He kicked off his panties and moved to sit back on the bed once more. There was a fairly amusing amount of space between them, all things considered. He decided he ought to do something about it so he turned to get up on hands and knees. His own cock swelled eagerly but he ignored it. It was there just so he didn’t seem lopsided, nothing more. He’d made it with being unable to orgasm in mind.

“Want me to lose the tits?” he added, belatedly. He’d gotten used to having them there—and quite liked the way they made him look—so he hadn’t thought of it.

He heard shifting behind him and then became aware all at once of their renewed proximity. “Erm, I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

Interesting. “You like them, do you?”

Aziraphale made an aborted sort of noise and Crowley thought he was going to have to do something about the sudden dearth of momentum between them. He could still all but feel the arousal rolling off Aziraphale in waves, could feel the heat of his skin just from how close they were. He was holding himself back again. “You can touch them if you like,” Crowley suggested.

Continuing his trend of going for it as soon as he was told, Aziraphale leaned forward and grasped at Crowley’s breasts, squeezing lightly. Aziraphale didn’t have much technique to speak of but Crowley was so wound up that it didn’t matter. Aziraphale’s warm palms up against his nipples was more than enough to have him fighting back a groan. The angel transitioned into kneading at the skin and Crowley shivered with arousal.

“Crowley—”

“Come on, then,” Crowley said, perking his ass up higher, wiggling it just a bit in a taunt. He wanted this to move along already. Foreplay would do him in for sure, so the less of it the better. “I know you want to.”

“But…isn’t there some preparation required first?” Aziraphale said with the air of someone who was pretending to know less than he did.

“Normally yes,” Crowley grumbled, waving a hand so that he was wet and open and ready. The sensation made his cock twitch. “But right now, I’m making it easy for you.”

“You have been all night,” Aziraphale murmured, sliding his hands back from Crowley’s breasts to his sides and then back to his hips, gripping onto the flesh there, pulling it apart. Crowley could feel his eyes on him. Aziraphale inhaled sharply. “You’re sure?” His hands were still shaking.

Crowley tilted back yet again, insistent. “_Yes_. At least give yourself a chance to fuck me a little before you lose it.”

The head of Aziraphale’s cock nudged hot and wet against his entrance. He rubbed it there a few times and Crowley had to grip the blankets to ground himself. Then, _finally_, he pushed inside, probably a bit too quickly, moaning as he filled Crowley up.

Crowley couldn’t help but press his face into the sheets and swear. He was going to get makeup on Aziraphale’s sheets but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Aziraphale bottomed out and his hands tightened on Crowley’s hips.

“_Move_,” Crowley demanded through gritted teeth. His body didn’t know what the hell to do with itself, overly sensitive from having been left wanting so long and finally getting what it wanted only to be unable to do anything about it. Still, he couldn’t stand the stagnation. Aziraphale’s cock was nice and thick and hot inside of him and he wanted to _feel _it.

Aziraphale stayed where he was for a moment, pressed up against Crowley, draped over his back. His skin was quite hot to the point where, if he didn’t know better, Crowley would have thought he had a fever. After a small eternity, he pulled back and began to fuck him earnest.

It seemed Aziraphale had exactly two speeds: stop or go. Not that Crowley was complaining. Aziraphale bore down upon him, rubbing his insides raw and pressing him down into the bed, gifting him with a series of satisfied little grunts as he did. He wrapped one arm around Crowley’s waist and slid the other into his hair. He ended up pulling the hair tie out so it fell down around his shoulders.

He let it cover his face unhindered for a moment before there was a hand gripping his hair and pulling his head back, not hard but enough to make him move. Then he closed his eyes instead, not that it mattered. He could feel Aziraphale all around him, each individual fingertip up against his side, the smack of their hips together, the weight of his body on top of him. It was all too much for him and he had to fight back the tightness in his throat.

“Don’t—don’t you dare just go for it with anyone else,” Crowley slurred, opening his mouth and letting it run in hopes it would distract him. “Don’t need you out there telling everyone you heard from me that prep-preparation isn’t important.” He brought an arm up to press up against his breasts so they wouldn’t swing quite so much, getting down onto his other elbow meanwhile.

“I wouldn’t—mm, wouldn’t think of it,” Aziraphale said, pressing his face into Crowley’s neck. “Don’t—don’t want to do this with anyone else anyway.” He broke himself off with a mewl and Crowley didn’t know how he was supposed to take that.

It was excruciating to be held like this, fucked like this, to hear those words from the one person he wanted to hear say them and know it wasn’t real. His whole body hummed like a violin string played so roughly and for so long that it was near to breaking and he couldn’t even come to release some of this godforsaken tension. He slumped down further into the mattress and told himself it was the heat. That’s all it was.

Aziraphale’s strokes began to grow unsteady as he pressed forth, unaware of Crowley’s minor crisis, and he slid his hand back to wrap it around the demon’s cock. Crowley yelped, surprised, particularly when the sensation continued, strong fingers running up and down the length of him.

“Stop,” he begged. “Stop, Aziraphale, I can’t—there’s no point.” Other than making him feel like he was truly going to implode from the pressure going unreleased inside of him. He supposed if this was how he went out it would be quite the way to go.

Aziraphale shushed him, relaxing his grip on his hair and moving so his hand was covering Crowley’s. Several things happened all at once or one after another and Crowley could hardly keep track of them.

One was that he felt an oddly familiar sensation that he was _not_ supposed to be feeling at the moment. His mind scrambled to come up with what might have happened, if he’d lost himself and somehow undone the miracle or— Well, there wasn’t time to riddle it out because he was definitely going to come in approximately five seconds if Aziraphale kept moving his hand like that.

Crowley tried to move to stop him but it wasn’t much use. He made an embarrassingly loud noise as he went spiraling over the edge and Aziraphale only continued to milk it out of him. He followed after him soon enough and Crowley could feel the warmth of his release inside of him.

Crowley’s vision swam with spots from the intensity of it all and so it was a minute before he managed to pull himself together and take stock of what had happened. As soon as he did, he squirmed around, turning so he was on his back and ignoring the feeling of Aziraphale’s cock slipping out of him. The angel was still hovering over him, looking much less frantic than he had for a good while. His eyes opened slowly and Crowley knew as soon as they did.

“Why?” he demanded, too worn out to be subtle. “You did that on purpose; I can tell! I told you not to put yourself at risk with this. I _told _you.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, his eyebrows pulling together, his gaze far too soft. “You were crying.”

Shame rushed through him and he looked away. “I was _not_ crying.”

He felt a careful hand up against his cheek and Aziraphale ran his thumb down along it. When he showed it to Crowley it was smudged black with mascara. Crowley pressed his teeth together hard.

“Please don’t be upset. Really I’d meant to do it from the beginning. I couldn’t just…use you like that,” Aziraphale pleaded, his words tripping over each other slightly like they did when he had too much to say and none of it was organized. “I’m so sorry I pulled you into all this. I knew I never should have. This is exactly why I’ve never told you about it. I knew I wouldn’t be able to help myself.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Crowley scolded, pushing Aziraphale so he would fall to his side next to him rather than looming over top. “All that it’s—it’s just the heat talking.” He felt on the brink of not-crying again and hurried along. “You should worry about yourself. Who knows what’ll happen because of this. You should have just let a human help you.”

Aziraphale looked at him for a long moment, searching. He reached over and pressed his hand alongside Crowley’s face and for a moment Crowley wondered if he might kiss him.

He didn’t, but he did press his face into the space under Crowley’s jaw and curled up against him, all soft skin and rounded edges. “I didn’t want a human to help me,” he muttered, scooching down a bit so he could press into the softer skin of the tops of Crowley’s breasts. Crowley tsked at him but placed a hand on the back of his neck anyway. “I know you don’t believe a thing I’m saying right now, but it’ll all be alright.”

Crowley still wasn’t so sure, but he sighed, giving in somewhat. There was no use trying to argue with Aziraphale like this. It was enough work to keep telling himself that this could very well still be taken away in the morning. That said, he snapped his fingers to get rid of his penis and get back to how he’d been before, not amused by the renewed interest it was taking at their proximity.

He ran a hand up and down Aziraphale’s back. One more try and then he’d just say fuck it already. “I should leave. They don’t need any more evidence against us than they’ve already got.”

Aziraphale whined and pressed his face further into Crowley chest. “Don’t leave,” he said, petulant. It was completely at odds with how he’d been acting when Crowley first arrived but he didn’t mention it. He clung to the demon and even slung a heavy leg over his hip. “Please. Just stay until morning.”

Crowley gave up. He clung tighter to Aziraphale and kissed the top of his head. Might as well enjoy it while it lasted. “Fine.” He swore he could feel the angel smiling.

He supposed he’d find out soon enough if this was just the heat or if it was something else. It wasn’t like either of them was going anywhere anytime soon. They’d sort it out somehow. He wouldn’t stand for being the responsible one after this by any means either way and when he woke up a few hours later to Aziraphale rubbing up against him and asking if they could try it the other way around, he didn’t even try to protest.

**Author's Note:**

> lovely comments from when I last posted this!!! : [here!](https://twitter.com/aliceecrivain/status/1192998985931210752) (i'm...........so sorry to send you to my awful twitter the screencaps were too terrible quality to be legible on tumblr rip)


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